


Duty Owing

by smaragdbird



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Goodbyes, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Near Death, Pre-Canon, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad, Sick Character, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: It is the good duty of every Christian to care for their fellow man in his hour of need.John Irving's reasons for staying at John Hartnell's side are wholly selfish
Relationships: John Hartnell/John Irving
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Duty Owing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarepair2021](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rarepair2021).



After the end of his shift, Irving made his way over to the infirmary that had been built outside the ships to give the sick better air. Lanterns had been set up to light the ways in the little makeshift village they had set up on Beechey.

It would be Christmas soon, but it would be a sombre celebration for the Hartnells if John lived that long. The thought squeezed his heart. They had only left England in May and John had seemed fine then, hazel eyes lighting up when he had seen Irving on board. How could he have fallen sick so quickly all because of one nasty fall?

“Sir.” It was not Thomas, John’s brother, but Mr. Strickland, his cousin, who greeted Irving from John’s bedside. Between the three of them, someone was always at John’s side. The Captain had commended Irving for fulfilling his Christian duty to his fellows as if Irving didn’t have wholly selfish motives to stay at John’s side for as long as possible.

How could he explain that this man had delivered him from doubt and given him purpose once more?

“How is he, Mr Strickland?” Irving asked. The inside of the infirmary was warm and the melting snow started to drip down his uniform.

“Feverish, but sleeping through most of it, sir”, Strickland replied. “He’s not eaten yet, though, Thomas said.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Strickland. I will do my best to persuade him.” John had barely eaten since the coughing had started a week after his fall. It was as if something was devouring him from the inside. Irving himself had been deadly sick in Australia but he had never been as thin as John was now.

They swapped places. At the start Mr Hartnell and Mr Strickland had thanked him for his attention to John but eventually Irving had managed to persuade them that it was nothing to be grateful for. He loved John no less than they did if differently.

He put his bible on the table and busied himself with changing the bandages on John’s foot, a twisted ankle and a wound from the fall that would not heal, and put a new cold rag on his forehead to lower the fever. 

Caring for the sick was a Christian duty that he had volunteered for on each of his ships and in Australia. There was grace in being of service to the weakest and most vulnerable of his fellow men, but attending to John always through to mind the passage where Mary washed the feet of Christ. A service done out of love.

Throughout his work, John had not stirred, but his body was also not wrecked by coughs and his fever not so high that he would slip into a delirium. Irving gave a small prayer of thanks to God for letting John rest, and opened his bible on his lap. It was Ezekiel, the reading of the day concerning the wrath of the lord against the enemies of Israel.

With one hand tracing the words and the other holding John’s hand, Irving began to read, low so that he would not disturb the sick in the other rooms but enough that John could hear him. 

A weak press of fingers against his made him look up and he found John watching him, eyes so sunken into his face that they looked dark instead of hazel but they were clear.

“You were never one for the wrathful stories”, John said, his voice raspy from the repeated coughs that left his throat raw.

“I have never had an enemy until this illness befell you”, Irving replied. He knew that all would happen as God had intended but he still prayed fervently that God intended for John to live as unlikely as it seemed now. He, too, had been death’s door and recovered from it back in Australia.

He helped John to drink some water, mindful of the injuries in his neck and shoulder that the fall had left him with. John was too light in his arms. Another fortnight of this illness and he’d be able to carry him in one arm.

“Would you like some soup?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“John…” he trailed off, wondering what could convince him. “If not for me then for your brother. Please.”

What would the others say if they could hear him beg? Camaraderie between the men and the officers was not tolerated but what he had with John had long since transcended the notion of ranks.

“Only if you tell me story”, John’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What kind of story?” Irving asked, reaching for a spoon and the bowl of soup left on the table. The broth had long since cooled since neither Mr Hartnell nor Mr Strickland had been able to convince John to eat.

“A happy one.”

Irving did not need his bible to tell the story of Ruth. He had read it many times during his service on the Volage, relating to her grief after losing her husband like he had lost his life in Australia, and the new hope that Boaz had awakened in her like John had in him.

“Do not entreat me to leave you, to return from following you, for wherever you go, I will go,”, Irving quoted from memory. 

John refused the next spoon of soup with a gesture of his hand. “Did I follow you or did you follow me here?” He asked when Irving helped him lie back down.

“I believe God led us here so that we may face these hardships together.” Irving said, grasping John’s hand once more in his.

“Then I am sorry to leave you behind. You and Thomas and John.”

“Don’t say that”, Irving interrupted him gently. “Do not speak of death until you see the angel stand at your feet to carry you to heaven.”

“I did not even finish your cap. You’ll catch a cold.” John’s knitting had endeared him to everyone on the Volage. The scarf Irving was wearing had been a gift from John, finished during their shore leave in Jamaica.

“Then you’ll have to get better”, Irving replied. 

It got him a wan smile from John. “You never give up hope.”

“I was hopeless when we met. Any hope I have now, you put there.”

“How does it go? ‘Set your seal upon my heart…’”

“’ Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave’”, Irving finished for him. “Yes, that is what you did to me. ‘For I have found the one my soul loves’. We will never be parted, John, not truly. I can promise you that.”

“Only if you promise me that you will take your time following me. Find the passage, become a captain, and die as an old man peacefully in your bed.”

“You know I cannot make that promise, but, if you die, I will take of your brother.”

“If I die”, the phrasing seemed to amuse John but Irving would not give up on him so quickly. There was time yet. “Then promise me that you will not lose hope.”

“I can promise you that”, Irving said despite knowing how hard it would be to keep that promise. John was guiding star in the darkness, without him, the world was dark.

In the distance they could hear the ships’ bells announcing the time. Soon Thomas would return to take Irving’s place at John’s bedside.

“You should sleep.” Irving got up to renew the cold rag on John’s forehead. “I’ll be here.”

“Don’t forget to care for yourself, too”, John said, closing his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about me”, Irving replied. He reached out and smoothed the worry lines from John’s face. He returned to his bible, but mindful of John’s request, continued with the book of Ruth.

“…Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. May the lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you.”

**Author's Note:**

> On one hand, I'm sure my rabbi would be happy if he knew how much bible reading I've done lately
> 
> On the other hand, I'm also sure, he'd be disappointed that it was for a fanfiction instead of, you know, religious devotion
> 
> For those wondering how I stumbled onto this ship, John Hartnell and John Irving served on the same ship together before the Franklin Expedition. Go and stalk Ralph Lloyd-Jones publications if you need inspiration for a rare pair.


End file.
